Courting Trouble

  ‘‘You better believe you’re gonna be married! If I don’t kill the snake first.’’

  Melvin slammed his eyes shut. In his mind’s eye he saw Essie’s dishevelment. Unbound hair. Wrinkled skirt. Shirtwaist buttoned unevenly. How in all that was holy did this happen? How was he gonna tell his sister? Or his best friend?

  Anger roiled inside him. He glared at Currington, but the cowpoke must have known better than to make eye contact. Essie sniffled and took choppy breaths.

  Melvin petted her head. ‘‘Go on back under the tree and make yourself presentable. You look a mess.’’

  She pulled away from him, keeping her chin tucked.

  ‘‘Take the lantern,’’ he said.

  She turned, saw Currington’s blood, and rushed to his side. ‘‘Are you all right?’’

  He didn’t answer her.

  ‘‘Let me see.’’ She pulled his hand away from his nose and sucked in her breath. ‘‘Oh, Adam. Oh, darling. Is it broken?’’

  He shrugged, then grimaced.

  She lifted her skirt and ripped off a portion of petticoat. ‘‘Here. Try to apply some pressure.’’

  Taking the fabric, he tenderly pressed it to his nose.

  She whirled on Melvin, fury coming off her in waves. ‘‘How could you? How could you?’’

  ‘‘You’re lucky he’s still breathin’.’’

  She narrowed her eyes. ‘‘You’re lucky he’s still breathing.’’ Whipping up the lantern, she disappeared beneath the tree.

  Her betrayal hit him square between the eyes. He’d known her, loved her, protected her for thirty years. And in the blink of an eye she switched her loyalties. To this slag. And now, they’d be married. He’d have to put up with this fly-by-night for the rest of his days. At church. At parties. At dinner tables. He snarled.

  Currington lifted his pain-coated gaze, then rose to his feet. He buttoned his shirt, tucked it in, and fastened his belt.

  Melvin should have killed him. Hung him. Beat him to death. Something more than a couple of well-placed punches.

  Essie stepped out from the tree. Her hair was all pinned up, her shirtwaist back in order, her fishing pole and tackle box in her hand.

  A defiant light came from her eyes. Not a tear to be seen.

  ‘‘Let’s go,’’ Melvin barked.

  Adam’s bleeding had, for the most part, stopped. She tore off a fresh piece of petticoat. He accepted it and touched it to his nose, then took the fishing pole and tackle box for her.

  ————

  The walk home had never seemed so long. She vacillated from being shamed to furious to scared out of her wits. Surprisingly, it wasn’t facing her mother that scared her the most. It was facing Papa. Because she knew he’d be crushed. Disappointed with the daughter that had never—in his eyes—done any wrong.

  The things that Mother always nagged her about were often the very things Papa was most proud of. But not this time. This time they’d both be shocked. Horrified. Enraged.

  She didn’t want to face them. How could she, knowing they’d find out what she had been doing?

  She was so worried about the confrontation, she hadn’t even had time to assimilate everything that had happened between her and Adam. The mysteries that had been revealed. The mysteries that had not.

  Would they be married tonight? By her father? Would Adam be joining her in her very own bedroom? And have breakfast with the family in the morning? How awkward.

  She glanced up at him. He looked neither left nor right but straight ahead, his expression hard, his nose swollen. She slipped her hand into his.

  He looked down. A slight softening touched his eyes and he squeezed her hand.

  She loved him. He loved her. Whatever happened, they’d face it together.

  When they approached the house, Uncle Melvin cursed.

  ‘‘The mayor’s still here,’’ he said, then scowled at their clasped hands. ‘‘Let go of her and let me do the talking.’’

  Adam released her hand and put some distance between them. They entered the house and the two couples in the parlor looked up from their game of dominoes.

  Mayor Whiteselle owned the brick and lumberyard south of town. He was one of those rare persons who liked everybody while still being genuine. Of medium build, he had ears that stuck out from the side of his head, a rapidly receding hairline and a thick brown moustache. He and Papa stood.

  ‘‘Well,’’ Mother said, ‘‘hello. Come on—’’ She looked at Adam’s nose and the blood splattered on his shirt front. She jumped to her feet. ‘‘What happened?’’

  ‘‘He ran into somebody’s fist,’’ the sheriff said.

  ‘‘Oh dear.’’

  ‘‘Essie said she’d get him fixed up,’’ Uncle Melvin continued.

  All offered words of concern, except Papa. He knew Uncle Melvin too well to be fooled.

  ‘‘Essie, why don’t you take Adam to the kitchen,’’ Papa said. ‘‘Maybe the rest of us ought to call it a night.’’

  They began to put their game away, and Adam followed Essie from the room.

  As soon as they were in the kitchen and out of earshot, he grabbed her hand. ‘‘I’m sorry about this, girl. I have no idea how the sheriff found out.’’

  She suppressed the panic she felt and put on a brave face. ‘‘Well, no sense in worrying about it now. Things will be bad at first, I’m sure, but my parents love me. They’ll settle down once the shock has passed. We’ll just have to weather the storm together.’’

  She realized with a start that his nose was crooked. It hadn’t been crooked before.

  ‘‘You all right?’’ he asked. ‘‘I mean, did I hurt you . . . very much?’’

  She looked down, embarrassed. ‘‘I’ll be fine,’’ she whispered.

  He squeezed her hand. ‘‘I’m sorry.’’

  She bit her lower lip. ‘‘How’s your nose?’’

  ‘‘That sheriff may be a man-eater, but he’ll find me a tough piece o’ gristle to chew.’’

  ‘‘You sit on down, then,’’ she said, dropping his hand. ‘‘I’ll break up some ice.’’

  She’d just finished wrapping ice chips in a cloth when she heard the mayor and his wife leave. Her parents and the sheriff immediately joined them.

  ‘‘Is it broken?’’ Mother asked.

  ‘‘I haven’t examined it yet,’’ Essie answered, not wanting to alarm Adam.

  ‘‘Sit down, Doreen.’’

  Mother hesitated at Uncle Melvin’s command. She looked between the four of them. ‘‘What? What is it?’’

  Papa pulled out the chair across from Adam, keeping his hands on its back even after Mother sat in it. Essie handed the compress to Adam and stood behind him as he placed it on his nose.

  ‘‘I’m sorry to have to bring you this news, Doreen, but I found Currington and Essie in a compromising position this evening.’’

  Mother frowned. ‘‘Essie is constantly compromising herself with the townspeople.’’

  ‘‘Yes, well.’’ Uncle Melvin cleared his throat. ‘‘Fortunately, no one from town saw this one. Only me.’’

  ‘‘Then what’s wrong?’’

  Papa slowly straightened, his eyes widening.

  Uncle Melvin nodded his head. ‘‘She’s been ruined, Sullivan. I’m sorry.’’

  The knuckles on Papa’s hands turned white from clenching the chair. His face tightened and he skewered Adam with his gaze before returning it to Uncle Melvin. ‘‘By force?’’

  Melvin shook his head in the negative. Papa’s lips parted in shock.

  Twisting around in her chair, Mother looked up at Papa. ‘‘What is happening, Sullivan? I don’t understand.’’

  ‘‘Is this true, Essie?’’ Papa asked.

  She swallowed as her father stared at her in disbelief. ‘‘Yes,’’ she whispered, unable to deny the truth.

  His expression transformed into something fierce and frightening. He moved his steely gaze to Adam. ‘‘I trusted you. Stood
up for you when others were quick to judge. And you repay me by taking advantage of my most treasured possession?’’

  His tone rose higher and higher with each accusation. Adam met Papa’s gaze without flinching but offered no rebuttal.

  Realization dawned on Mother. ‘‘No. No. You can’t mean . . .’’ She gaped at Essie. ‘‘You haven’t . . . you didn’t let him . . . oh, Essie. No. Surely even you wouldn’t be so foolish?’’

  Straightening her backbone, Essie took a deep breath. ‘‘I love him and he loves me.’’

  ‘‘Mercy me. What are we going to do, Sullivan?’’

  ‘‘Yours was the fist he ran into?’’ Papa asked Melvin.

  ‘‘It was.’’

  ‘‘I wish it had been mine.’’

  Essie pressed her fingers to her mouth. Oh, Papa.

  Mother stood. ‘‘They must get married. At once.’’

  But Papa was shaking his head. ‘‘No. She’d be bound to him for the rest of her life.’’

  ‘‘She’s already bound to him! In God’s eyes they are one.’’

  Warmth flooded Essie’s face. She glanced at Adam. He’d not moved nor said a word. Just held the ice compress to his nose and watched.

  Papa slammed his fist on the table. ‘‘No, Doreen. Marrying him because they had relations is a senseless reason to wed. We would be shackling her to a philanderer. I won’t do it. We will run him out of town.’’

  ‘‘No!’’ Essie said.

  ‘‘And what if she is with child?’’ Mother cried at the same time.

  A swell of silence followed her question, its implications echoing in all their minds. Mother turned solid red, as did Papa and Melvin. Essie parted her lips, stunned. So much had happened so fast, she’d not seriously considered the possibility.

  She glanced at Adam. He was watching her, gauging her reaction. She touched her stomach and smiled tremulously.

  ‘‘Tell him, Melvin,’’ Mother said. ‘‘Tell Sullivan they must wed.’’

  But Uncle Melvin said not a word.

  Papa stormed out of the room and slammed into his study. Mother quickly followed. Essie stood frozen, listening to their shouts, though she could not tell what they were saying. Never in her entire life had she heard her parents yell at each other.

  Adam reached for the chair beside him and pulled it out for her. She plopped down.

  Uncle Melvin strode to the window above the washbasin and looked out. The glass reflected back his hard expression.

  In a few moments, Mother and Papa returned.

  Papa’s face was flushed, his eyes murderous. He slapped the Bible in his hand onto the table. ‘‘Stand up, you two, and prepare yourselves to speak your vows.’’

  chapter SEVENTEEN

  ADAM LOWERED THE compress from his nose and rose to his feet. ‘‘May I say somethin’?’’

  Papa did not respond. He didn’t need to. If he’d been a dragon, he’d have been breathing fire.

  ‘‘With all due respect, sir,’’ Adam continued, ‘‘I think it’s a mistake to be sayin’ the vows tonight.’’

  Roaring, Papa lunged at him, but the table stood between them. Uncle Melvin grabbed Papa.

  Essie jumped to her feet.

  ‘‘Don’t get me wrong, sir,’’ Adam said, taking a step back. ‘‘I wanna marry her. But I don’t wanna shame her.’’

  ‘‘Well, it’s a little late for that, isn’t it?’’ Papa shouted.

  ‘‘Papa, please,’’ Essie said.

  ‘‘Shut your mouth!’’ Papa yelled, jerking free from Melvin’s hold.

  She sucked in her breath, unable to control the moisture springing to her eyes. Never had Papa said such a thing to her or raised his voice, for that matter.

  ‘‘What I’m tryin’ to say, sir, is that if we marry hurry-up like, it’ll create talk. And there’s no reason to. The only people that know about me and Essie having our weddin’ night two jumps ahead o’ the ceremony are here in this room.’’

  Papa ground his teeth.

  ‘‘If we marry tonight, like this, the whole town’ll know. And I just don’t see why we should put Essie through that.’’

  Mother touched Papa’s arm. ‘‘He has a point, Sullivan.’’

  ‘‘What are you suggesting?’’ Uncle Melvin asked Adam.

  ‘‘That we announce our intentions. That I court Essie all proper-like. And that we marry at the end o’ the month or somethin’.’’

  Essie’s heart swelled. He was willing to wait for her to be his bride in order to protect her from any vile gossip.

  ‘‘Perhaps that would be best,’’ Mother said.

  Papa looked ready to explode. He glared at Adam. ‘‘You will conduct yourself with complete propriety. You will not so much as kiss her until the vows have been spoken.’’

  ‘‘Papa,’’ Essie exclaimed.

  ‘‘I told you to be quiet!’’ he bellowed.

  Adam stiffened. Essie stumbled back.

  ‘‘Sullivan,’’ Mother hissed under her breath. ‘‘Be reasonable.’’

  ‘‘Be reasonable? Be reasonable!’’ He jabbed a finger in Adam’s direction. ‘‘He has tumbled our daughter and you want me to be reasonable?’’

  Mother gasped. ‘‘That is quite enough!’’

  ‘‘It doesn’t even come close to being enough. Enough would be stringing him up by his personals on the nearest cottonwood tree!’’

  Mother pressed a hand to her throat.

  ‘‘Sullivan,’’ Uncle Melvin said, his voice low.

  The two friends exchanged looks. Essie dashed away a tear, only to have another fall.

  ‘‘I mean it, Melvin.’’ Papa took a deep breath. ‘‘If they have to marry, I will not have him touching her until after the vows have been spoken.’’

  ‘‘I’ll honor yer wishes, sir,’’ Adam said. ‘‘All courtin’ will be done in full view of chaperones.’’

  Papa stood breathing like a horse who’d run a lengthy race.

  ‘‘There,’’ Mother said, tugging her cuffs. ‘‘That’s settled. Now let’s pick a date. I think it needs to be sooner than later in case Essie is in a family way.’’

  Everything was happening so fast. No one was asking her what she wanted. It was to be her wedding, after all.

  ‘‘How ’bout during the Harvest Festival?’’ Uncle Melvin suggested. ‘‘Everybody will be there and it wouldn’t be the only attraction, so to speak, which will give folks things to talk about other than the wedding.’’

  Essie frowned. She wanted her wedding to be talked about. She wanted it to be a grand affair, not some peripheral event that would take second fiddle to the fair.

  ‘‘The Harvest Festival,’’ Papa agreed. ‘‘Now get out of my house.’’

  ‘‘Papa!’’

  Adam gave her arm a quick squeeze. ‘‘Yes, sir.’’ He turned toward her.

  She forced herself to relax. The details of the wedding could be worked out later. For now, she wanted to set Adam’s mind at rest.

  She’d always heard that eyes were the windows to the soul, so she let down her guard, exposing her heart, and allowed him to see into the very core of her being. I love you.

  His expression softened. ‘‘I’ll see you tomorrow, girl,’’ he whispered and winked.

  Uncle Melvin followed Adam down the hall, their footsteps ringing on the wooden floor. When both men had left, Papa turned to her.

  ‘‘Get to your room,’’ he ground out. ‘‘This minute. Before I say something I regret.’’

  Grabbing her skirts, she ran up the stairs, then slammed her bedroom door shut.

  ————

  Essie crawled beneath her covers, pulling them clear to her neck and drawing comfort from their shelter. Neither Mother nor Papa had come upstairs yet. She wondered what they were saying to each other. About Adam. About her. About what had happened.

  She thought back to all the times her father had been in volatile situations. As a judge, there had been plenty of them. And
never, ever, had she seen him lose control—though in several instances it would have been warranted.

  So to witness it now, and know she had been the cause, filled her with remorse. She’d not really thought about how her decision to give herself to Adam would affect others. She had naïvely assumed it would only affect her and Adam.

  And now it was too late. For the rest of their lives, Adam and Papa would remember this night. And so would she.

  Now that she was alone, she allowed the tears that had been pressing against her all night to flood her eyes. She wanted Adam and Papa to get along. To like each other. Respect each other. Befriend each other.

  How long would the rift between them last? A lifetime? Surely not. But Papa was a judge by occupation. It’s what he did. And when he made his decisions, he did so with firmness and finality.

  Would this bitterness extend to his grandchildren? She couldn’t imagine that it would. But then, she couldn’t have imagined Papa’s actions tonight, either.

  She thought of the reassuring smile and wink Adam had given her before he left. Would the very things that she found charming be things Papa would resent most? Oh, she hoped not. Because if Adam tried to suppress those things, he’d be suppressing his very self.

  The stairs creaked and she tensed.

  ‘‘Oh, Sullivan,’’ came Mother’s muffled sob as she and Papa reached the top of the stairs and walked past Essie’s door. ‘‘What will we do if—?’’

  ‘‘Shh,’’ he soothed, though his voice cracked as he whispered, ‘‘We’ll trust God, that’s what we’ll do. And we’ll pray. . . .’’ Their door clicked quietly closed and she heard no more.

  Rolling to her side, Essie bunched her pillow beneath her head and closed her eyes against a new wave of tears. A cricket outside her window called loud and longingly for its mate.

  For the first time in her life, she heard its distress. Its edge of desperation. And she, too, realized that after tonight no one could comfort her the way Adam could. No one. She’d so much like to be held in his arms right now.

  She allowed herself to review in her mind the consummation of their relationship. Because of the darkness beneath the magnolia, she had no images to recall, only sounds. Touches. Feelings.